She bends To stroke the rose That warmed in sweetest light, It's curling velvet petals Shine full In Glorious black. By the rose Sits she Who sighs as it nods back When in the wind it seems to sway With the hummingbird's Soft song And everyday is she By rose and watery glass To nurse with clear cold handfuls Her poisoned Bud Her rose knows not of her Nothing allows it to It'll bleed with thorned indifference her wanting outreached finger For roses dug in beds That bear not the maiden's name Cannot belong to her. The maiden only sits there To live its sweet perfume
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